


Eleven

by Venstar



Series: Meaningless Scars [11]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 00:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: Mr. Gravedigger spun and danced with great fervor, throwing his head back.  The lights caught his hair and his outfit, they became spinning glowing streaks of motion.





	Eleven

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so for classic Bond day during the fest I went with a villain monologue from the prompt table. I said something to Boffin the other day about how the next Bond villain would speak in only David Bowie lyrics and wear roller skates. Well, that idea stuck with me, so here you go. Song lyrics obviously by the late, great David Bowie. I chopped them up, but I can't remember which goes to which song really.

The lights came on, finally. Bond squinted, rapidly trying to readjust. It didn’t help that it wasn’t just ONE lone bulb, but that multiple lights in multiple colors bounced around the circular room, reflecting off of multiple mirror balls, throwing the room into a riotous chaos. “Well, this is a new kind of torture,” he murmured.

A headache was growing behind his eyes. Evidence of the concussion he must have sustained during the car crash that brought him and Miss L’averdeen to a complete stop. Said Miss L’averdeen was currently tied up next to him, her eyes wide with fear, mascara and eyeliner coating the skin around her eyes, giving her the look of a racoon. He almost laughed, but she wouldn’t have appreciated it.

Miss L’averdeen finally found her voice. She whispered her question to him. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know, but the seventies called and they want their disco back,” Bond muttered, his caustic humor in dire situations popping up and out. Miss L’averdeen shushed him as the sound of something hard, rolled across the floor towards them. They both craned their necks around to see what it was. Miss L’averdeen cringed and moved closer to him, trying to find some quantum of solace from their would be killer.

The villain of their story, Bond’s initial target, rolled into view. He was tall, lanky and gawky, which on land, isn’t very impressive. Here though, in his natural habitat, his villains lair, in motion, he was sinister to behold. He was wearing gold hot pants, a white vest, gold wrist guards, gold chains, white knee high socks and gold roller skates.

A quick turn of his body and he skated backwards towards them. His bleach blond hair flapping around him as he swung around, held in place by a gold sequined headband. Miss L’averdeen, pulled in her appendages as far as they could go as he rolled to a stop in front of them.

“And you are?” Bond asked. He knew that the human trafficking organization MUST have a leader, but he hadn’t discovered who it was and he hadn’t expected that this...person would be who he was looking for.

Music filled the rink and the villain began to skate and speak, although it was more like singing. _“They call me Mr. Gravedigger.”_

Bond snorted into the air. “Original. Very original.”

Mr. Gravedigger squatted down on one leg, he brushed the top of Bond’s head gently as he rolled past singing.

_“You're face to face, with the man who sold the world._   
_I staggered through this criminal reign._   
_I've got a handful of songs to sing._   
_To sting your soul._   
_To fuck you over._   
_This furious reign”_

Bond sighed. “Well this is new.”

“Stop antagonizing him,” Miss L’averdeen hissed out. She kicked Bond with her bound feet.

Mr. Gravedigger smiled, his teeth uneven and white, glaringly so. He glanced down at his nails, that were painted gold and began an intricate set of pirouettes and jumps as he spoke...or sang to them.

_“One boy breaks a rule_   
_Silly Boy Blue, silly Boy Blue_   
_You wish and wish, and wish again_   
_You've tried so hard to fly_   
_You'll never leave your body now_   
_You've got to wait to die_   
_Silly Boy Blue, silly Boy Blue_   
_You've got a very heavy reputation_   
_But no one knows about your low-life_   
_I know a way_   
_to find a situation_   
_And hold a candle_   
_to your high life disguise.”_

Mr. Gravedigger laughed and pointed at Miss L’averdeen, skating past her swiftly and brutally, catching her hair under his skate. She gave a scream of pain as the strand was caught and pulled out.

_“This girl is made of lipstick_   
_Powder and paint_   
_Sees the picture of herself_   
_Every magazine on every shelf_   
_This girl is maid of bond street_   
_Hailing cabs, lunches with executives_   
_Gleaming teeth sip aperitifs_   
_This girl is a lonely girl_   
_Takes the train from Paddington to Oxford Circus_   
_Buys the Daily News_   
_But passengers don't smile at her, don't smile at her_   
_This girl is made of loneliness_   
_A broken heart_   
_For the boy she once knew_   
_Doesn't want to know her any more_   
_And this girl is a lonely girl_   
_Everything she wants is hers_   
_But she can't make it with the boy she really wants to be with_

_Watch that man! Oh honey, watch that man_   
_He talks like a jerk but he could eat you with a fork and_   
_spoon_   
_Watch that man! Oh honey, watch that man_   
_He walks like a jerk_   
_But he's only taking care of the room_   
_Must be in tune.”_

Mr. Gravedigger spun and danced with great fervor, throwing his head back. The lights caught his hair and his outfit, they became spinning glowing streaks of motion.

“Is he…” Miss L’averdeen swallowed hard, but she bravely continued. “Is he actually singing to us?”

Bond rolled his eyes. “Yes. David Bowie to be exact.” He raised his voice. “An imitator. What a poor excuse for a villain. Bowie would be ashamed.”

“Actually…” Miss L’averdeen began.

Mr. Gravedigger brought himself to a halt and rolled his feet back and forth, staying in place. He moved himself forwards and sideways towards the duo in the middle of his rink. He began to dance and sing again.

_“Time - He flexes like a whore_   
_Falls wanking to the floor_   
_His trick is you and me, boy_

_With your long blonde hair_   
_and your eyes of blue_   
_The only thing I ever got from you_   
_was sorrow_

_Let's dance_   
_Put on your red shoes_   
_And dance the blues_   
_Let's dance_   
_To the song they're playin' on the radio_

_Tell the others_   
_It's the Heart's filthy lesson_   
_Paddy,_   
_What a fantastic death abyss_   
_Tell the others_   
_It's the Heart's filthy lesson_   
_Paddy,_   
_what a fantasic death abyss_   
_It's the Heart's filthy lesson_   
_Tell the others_

_It's only forever_   
_It's not long at all_   
_The lost and lonely_   
_That's underground_   
_Underground!”_

Mr. Gravedigger made his move and charged towards them, murderous intent in his eyes. Unfortunately, his lengthy sing-along monologue had given Bond time to use the new watch Q had made him. He had cut through his bonds. As soon as Mr. Gravedigger got close enough, he threw his wrist bindings in front of him, Mr. Gravedigger’s skates caught on them and as Newton’s third law tells us, an object in motion will stay in motion, until acted upon by equal and opposite force. Mr. Gravedigger’s mistake cost him his life.


End file.
